Delivery
by uprootandrun
Summary: Henry [OC] considers his feelings for Penny when he visits her late at night to deliver a tigerseye that she requested.


Henry called a few final goodbyes over his shoulder as he reached out a hand to push the wooden door open. The pub was warm and inviting for Elliott's birthday gathering, and now he shivered slightly as he stepped into the cold evening.

The party had been a jovial and lively affair and he was in high spirits; knowing he'd made so many friends since arriving in town was good for the soul. He often felt isolated on the farm and was thrilled when Elliott extended the invite a few days ago - he'd marked it down on his calendar without delay.

It was early autumn and a strong gust of wind was currently sweeping through the air, ruffling the bushes and treetops arranged around the town cemetery. The sound came to him in whispering waves and brought with it the sharp scent of decaying leaves and damp earth. He tightened his scarf and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets for warmth, intending to immediately head home, then his right hand brushed against a hard, smooth object.

Startled, he stopped walking just a few feet from the Stardrop Saloon, then backtracked to stand under the building's exterior lights. He removed his hand from his pocket and opened a clutched fist, staring down at the tigerseye that rested, illuminated, on his palm. Henry dropped his head back and stared at the sky, sighing dramatically; he had completely forgotten that he promised to deliver the tigerseye to Penny today. The hullabaloo of Elliott's party had driven it out of his mind.

"Well at least she doesn't live far," he murmured cheerfully to himself as he started walking again, this time heading in the opposite direction from home, "And at least I didn't stay too late at the pub."

It wasn't a bother to swing by her place, and he absolutely wanted to keep his promise, but he was feeling a bit tired after all the shouting, laughter, and games.

He checked his watch as he approached the trailer; it was just past 9 pm, later than he'd usually drop by, but the lights were still on. In fact, he could spot Penny through one of the front windows as he drew closer to her home. She was alone, as Henry knew she would be (seeing as Pam was still at the bar), and was standing in the middle of the room with her hands in her hair while slowly looking around.

Frowning slightly to himself at this image, he knocked on the front door. She opened it within seconds.

"Oh! Hello," she said, looking confused and distracted, "What are you doing here?"

Henry shifted his gaze around, feeling suddenly intrusive. She didn't seem like her usual cheery self, which he realized shouldn't have come as a surprise given the distressed view of her he'd seen through the window.

As a short silence bloomed between them she seemed to become aware that her tone was curt and uninviting. One hand remained on the doorknob, the other resting on the interior wall of her home.

"Not that it's not nice to see you," she amended, dropping her hands to her sides, "it's just kind of… late."

Feeling better, Henry said, "Yeah, sorry about that. I was just leaving the bar after Elliott's birthday party when I remembered I promised to bring you this."

He held out his hand and the tigerseye shone smoothly in the warm beam of light spilling from inside the trailer.

"Ooh, right!" she said, her face transforming into a delighted smile, "Thank you!"

She reached out a hand and plucked the stone from the palm of his hand, bringing it closer to her face to examine it.

"Want to come inside?" she asked, eyes still on the stone, "It's kind of cold out there."

She looked up and smiled again, stepping back to make room in the doorway.

"Sure," he returned her smile, "but I won't stay too long, I know it's late."

He crossed the threshold into the small trailer and she closed the door behind him.

Penny excused herself and quickly ducked into her bedroom to store the tigerseye, then returned to the living room. Henry remained close to the door while she disappeared and now migrated toward the couch as she approached the main room.

They'd known each other nearly a year now and he was beginning to consider her a pretty good friend. Just last week he'd come by to drop off a gift for her birthday, and afterward they'd gone for a little walk around town.

When he visited that day the trailer had been neat and tidy. Now he noticed it was astonishingly messy; dishes, food, empty cans, magazines, clothes, and assorted debris littered every surface and crept across the floor.

He pulled his gaze away from the mess as she came to a halt a few feet away from him, then asked a bland, "So… how've you been today?"

She chuckled hollowly and leaned against the wall behind her, crossing her arms lightly across her chest.

"I've been tired," she replied, "I didn't have Vincent and Jas today but I did a lot of yard work."

At these words she uncrossed her arms and gestured to her outfit. She was wearing dirty, loose-fitting jeans and a sleeveless leaf green top that tied in the front. It was a very different appearance from her usual school teacher's outfit of a blouse and knee-length skirt.

Henry smiled.

"I know the feeling," he said, a leap of excitement taking place in his mind at knowing they could relate about gardening. He never had anything particularly interesting to contribute when the topic fell to techniques on teaching.

He shifted his footing slightly and leaned against the back of the well-worn couch, then asked, "Do you get to relax now, though? Do something fun for the rest of the night?"

At these questions her mouth twisted into an expression of slightly resentful displeasure.

"No," she answered, then sighed, "No, I need to take this chance to clean while mom is out of the house."

"Oh," Henry's eyes drifted back to the mess around him, then moved across the crowded kitchen counter and landed on the sink overflowing with dirty dishes, "Well, could you use some company? Chores aren't so bad for me when I don't have to be alone."

Penny paused for a moment, looking slightly uncomfortable, but also clearly debating his offer.

"Um, I don't know..." she began, then yawned hugely.

Henry couldn't stop a small laugh from escaping him. Penny smiled ruefully and ran her fingers quickly over her hair.

"I don't know. It's not your mess, you know?" she replied while looking around the room.

"True," Henry began, "but I'm guessing it's not all your mess, either."

His eyes widened and he looked away from her, wondering if that had been too forward, then said, "I'm sorry, I'd like to help you out, that's all. You're clearly tired and, well… it just... looks like there's a lot to do still."

His voice had become small and he groaned inwardly as to why he was still talking. He felt like was being incredibly rude.

To his relief, Penny didn't look offended. It was true that she'd always been candid about the messes her mother made, along with precisely how she felt about them, but that was her prerogative.

"Alright," she conceded, looking slightly uncomfortable and guilty, "but nothing big! You have enough to deal with on that farm of yours."

She moved to the opposite end of the kitchen and picked up a broom that was leaning lazily against the wall, then dislodged a fresh trash bag from a box on the floor.

"Could you sweep and grab the empty containers?" she asked, handing the broom and bag to him.

He nodded and shrugged off his jacket and scarf before taking the items, then they set to work in companionable silence.

Penny edged around the room collecting clothing and dishes, scraping old food into the trash, and piling items onto the already overcrowded countertops.

Henry walked through the trailer and picked up all of the bottles and cans he could find. Then he weaved across the floor while sweeping under and behind as many pieces of furniture that he could access, working for a particularly long time around the front door. It was clear that someone regularly neglected to wipe their feet on the exterior door mat and would carelessly track large amounts of dirt over the threshold.

By the time he was done with the floors and had a bulging bag of bottles and cans, Penny was finished clearing the living room of the other debris and was straightening stacks of magazines on the coffee table.

"I think I'm all finished," he said while setting the bag down near the front door. It shifted and clanked noisily as the contents settled onto the linoleum. Penny looked up, now with a few coasters in one hand and a half-burned candle in the other.

With a grateful smile she said, "Thank you so much for doing that! I really hate sweeping."

She put away the items she was holding and straightened up, looking around the room.

"It looks a lot better in here, and that didn't even take very long," she said, then sighed again, the smile slipping off of her face, "I wish mom would clean up after herself. If she would just take her cans and food to the kitchen after every meal it would never get this bad in the first place."

Her arms crossed agitatedly over her body and she turned away from Henry, seeming uncomfortable again.

"But whatever!" her voice burst out suddenly and loudly as she turned and walked to the kitchen area. She didn't say another word but yanked up on the sink handle to begin running the hot water. Henry stood awkwardly next to the semi-flattened trash bag full of recycling, unsure of if he should speak, approach her, or just excuse himself and leave.

After a few moment's hesitation he walked to the kitchen and stood silently a few feet away from Penny, leaning against the counter. She looked at him quickly out of the corner of her eyes, then turned her attention back to the steady stream filling up the sink.

"You caught me on a bad day, I'm sorry," she began while reaching for the soap, but Henry cut her off.

"You don't have to apologize," he said quickly, but quietly, "You're allowed to have a bad day. I'm the one who just dropped in on you and insisted on sticking around."

Penny looked at him then, but didn't speak. A few moments passed before she reached another hand out and turned off the water.

"It's nice to have you here. I really wish I was in a better mood."

"Well, let's make it better then!" Henry replied with gusto, throwing his arms up into the air and grinning widely. Penny looked startled, but smiled in spite of herself.

"Let me help with the dishes," he continued, the grin still on his face.

She glanced warily at the tottering stacks of dinnerware and cutlery, then shook her head fervently.

"That's too much. I can't-"

"How about I just dry, then?"

Henry widened his eyes and stared directly into hers while adding an insistent eyebrow waggle. Penny laughed suddenly and it echoed delightfully around the small trailer.

"Alright, fine!" her voice rang out loud and amused as she dug into a drawer and pulled out a clean drying rag, a smile still playing around the corners of her lips, "I'll let you know where everything goes."

Henry smiled to himself, feeling pleased to be perking up her evening in even a small way. Considering how fun his night had been at the bar it just didn't seem fair that she was having such a crummy time - he wanted to her to be in a good mood, too, even if it was an uphill battle. He knew how frustrating it was to live with messy and inconsiderate people; he didn't like imagining how much worse it would feel for it to come from a parent.

They worked together for a second, longer stretch of comfortable silence. The water sloshed and the dishes clanked dully against the metal basin as her hands worked a soapy sponge into each dirty item. Penny paused often to point him toward a specific drawer or cabinet where cups, plates, and spoons belonged, and the towel in Henry's hands grew steadily damper.

Each time he stepped back from the sink and returned after putting something away he found himself inch by inch closer to Penny. A quiet, humming desire to be nearer to her was overtaking him, slowly filling up his chest and head and leaving him feeling highly alert.

She was currently cleaning a large mixing bowl with stubborn food stuck to the bottom of it. He gazed at her slender fingers now clenched around the sponge, scrubbing aggressively while water cascaded over her hands.

From here his eyes swept up her arms; they were taut with effort, slender and lean. He continued to watch her, his eyes roving up to her face, and he noted her brows were furrowed in concentration; her lips pulled into a grimace of distaste. Stray hairs had come loose from her ponytail and were floating around the sides of her head. She looked flustered and pretty.

"Finally!" she exclaimed with triumph as the last bits of hardened food came free from the bowl. Henry jerked slightly and averted his gaze, looking quickly out the window over the sink.

Via the reflection he watched as Penny lifted the mixing bowl from the depths of the water and turned the faucet on again to rinse it off. She banged the bowl gently against the edge of the sink to dislodge extra droplets, then handed it out to Henry.

"This has been sitting here at least a week," she said while swiping hairs away from her face with a forearm.

Henry reached out a hand to take the bowl and his fingers accidentally grazed over Penny's; they were warm and slightly pruned from prolonged submersion in the water. He felt a slight jump in his stomach, but kept his eyes trained on the bowl.

"It goes in that one," she pointed to an upper right cabinet that Henry hadn't accessed yet. He stepped away and opened the door, finding the rest of the set of bowls that it went with. After nestling them together he closed the cupboard and returned to Penny's side, even closer to her now.

His heart was beginning to beat faster and he suddenly wondered when Pam would be home from the bar. Penny looked up at him and smiled; her mood seemed to be holding steady and cheerful even though they were only halfway through the dishes. She reached next for a colander and dunked it under the soapy water.

"And where does this go?" he asked a minute later after she handed him the now clean dish, his hands working to run the barely dry towel over its holed surface.

She looked up and nodded toward a hook in the ceiling directly above the sink.

"On that hook."

Henry gave the inside one last swipe with the towel before reaching it up above his head, standing on tiptoe to more easily catch the colander's handle around the curved metal fixture. The two pieces connected, and as they did the hand that remained on the counter to steady himself slipped in a slick patch of water, and he stumbled sideways into Penny.

"Oh! Oh I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, grasping wildly for the edges of the counter.

She stumbled too, knocked by the force of his body, and dropped the mug she was holding. It splashed loudly into the sink and splattered the surrounding area with graying water. She gasped and squeezed the sponge in surprise, causing soapy water to rush down her arm.

The water in the sink fluctuated and sloshed gently in the silence that followed, and they were both standing still now; Henry's fingers clutching the counter, Penny with her hands up and one arm drenched. His left shoulder was pressing into her right side, their faces inches away as he turned to look at her in embarrassment.

They stared at each other, eyes wide, and Penny's face slowly split into shocked laughter. Henry felt relieved, but it turned quickly to a fluttering sensation as he noted the warmth of her bare arm against his own, their skin touching above the elbow where his short-sleeve shirt ended.

Somewhat reluctantly he stepped away from her and turned to survey the splash radius from the mug.

Penny continued to chuckle as she reached into the drawer for another dry towel. She tossed the sponge into the water and began to wipe down her wet arm.

"Thank goodness the mug fell in the water!" she said gratefully, swiping the fabric up and down her skin, "That would have really hurt if it landed on our feet."

Henry looked down and saw that she was in socks. With a twinge of guilt he realized he should have removed his shoes when he entered the house earlier.

"Yeah, your poor toes!" he agreed emphatically, "I really am sorry. Your arm got completely soaked."

She shrugged while she finished drying off and said, "No worries, it's fine."

He reached a hand out for the towel she was using and asked, "Mine is too wet now, can I use that one to keep drying?"

"Sure," she replied, smiling with her hand outstretched.

Henry reached for the towel with both hands as a way to manufacture "accidentally" grazing her fingers again. His heart was already racing from the sudden burst of activity and accompanying anxiety that he'd nearly hurt her, and it sped up further when he made contact with her skin. It lasted only a moment, he wished it'd gone on longer, then she let go of the dishtowel.

He stole a quick glance in her direction and, while she was smiling slightly, she wasn't looking at him. Her attention had returned to the sink where she was fishing around for the previously dropped mug.

Henry turned back to the sink too, and rubbed the towel contemplatively between his fingers. He felt nervous, excited, and tense. They hadn't touched this much since their handshake from when they first met. He could feel heat rising in his neck and cheeks as his heart continued to beat quickly. He chanced another look at Penny, but she had resumed washing the dishes. Had she just been watching him? He couldn't tell.

If he was honest with himself he didn't know if Penny had feelings for him or not. They were friends, and he saw her regularly out in town and she always had time for him; she at least seemed pleased to talk whenever he stopped for a chat. If he was even more honest, though, he wasn't entirely sure if _he_ had feelings for _her_.

It was exciting to make a connection with someone new, no doubt about that. He hadn't dated anyone in a while - not since he moved to Stardew Valley about a year ago - and now this evening of cleaning was the most private time they'd ever shared.

Was something actually going on here, or was he just feeling antsy and curious? His throat was tight and his cheeks burned as he received a sudden and vivid mental image of what it would be like to turn and kiss her right here and now.

Would she respond enthusiastically? Would she be shocked? What if she laughed and backed away? But… what if she liked it? Maybe she would be the best kiss he'd ever had. "Maybe she's even hoping that I'll kiss her tonight," he thought wildly. Every time they accidentally touched he could catch her smiling about it. Or was she just a charming person who smiled easily?

His heart sped up until it was slamming against his ribs. He was starting to get a headache from the banging echo that was reverberating through his body. Any moment now could be the one when he leaned in and kissed her.

"Henry," came Penny's voice, cutting across his intense stream of thoughts. He jerked his head around to see her holding the mug out to him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, taking the mug and beginning to dry it, "Spaced out."

She smiled at him and turned back to the sink.

His eyes moved slowly and covertly to the left, peering at her from under his lashes. Her eyes were equally downcast toward her hands, which worked steadily at a bundle of silverware. He stared at the profile of her nose, then her lips. They were set together in slight concentration, looking soft and inviting. He swallowed and looked away, clearing his throat.

"Where do the mugs go?" he asked.

She cocked her head to the left, not taking her eyes off of the water.

"On top of the microwave. We don't have very many."

Henry moved around behind her, his shoulder brushing against hers as he leaned in to set down the mug. The contact caused his heart rate to redouble. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he noticed her turning to look at him as he hovered near the microwave.

He returned to his place on her right side and waited for the next clean dish to be passed along. She was finished washing the silverware now and was rinsing the pieces one by one under the spray of clean water.

He was back to looking intently at her, taking in her red hair and pale complexion. Her forehead was slightly sweaty from the heat of the water and the exertion from scrubbing, and pink patches had appeared on her cheeks. His eyes darted toward her lips again. Then she turned and looked at him, intending to hand over the bundle of silverware, and their eyes locked.

She looked expectant at first and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she noticed he was looking at her, too. Her hand was clutched around an assortment of knives, forks, and spoons, suspended partially over the counter in his direction. His heart thumped and jumped around in his chest and his breath quickened. A lightheaded dizziness was sweeping over him.

"This is the time," he thought suddenly to himself, "If you're going to kiss her do it now!"

The seconds dragged on, and slowly an embarrassed smile appeared on Penny's face. She looked quickly toward the window, then back at him.

"Um, I'm… done with the silverware," she said in a slightly quiet tone, her face looking flushed.

Henry blinked and reached out a hand to take the utensils from her, feeling winded and breathless.

"Right, sorry," he said, then cleared his throat, "I think I'm getting tired."

He looked away from her and began to quickly dry the items in his hands. To avoid looking at her further he checked his watch and saw it was just past 10:30 pm. Dully he noted the sound of her hands dunking back into the water.

"I should probably go," he said abruptly after he had deposited the cutlery and closed the silverware drawer. He began to wipe his hands dry on the towel and went on, "It's supposed to rain tomorrow and I need to close up the barns."

He turned toward her now, feeling a headache come on with a sickening force. He couldn't do it, he couldn't kiss her, and he felt exhausted and embarrassed.

She was looking at him and seemed slightly worried, her hands still in the sink.

"Oh, uh... yeah, of course," she began, withdrawing her hands and reaching for the discarded dish towel, "I didn't mean to keep you so late."

"No no, I'm happy I could help. I just didn't realize what time it was," he responded hastily. He didn't want her to feel bad for accepting his help.

They stood awkwardly for a moment before Henry clasped his hands together and Penny said, "Well, I really appreciate your help tonight. Maybe I had to spend all day doing chores, but at least I spent the evening with a friend."

She smiled a little with her hands clutched around the dish towel. Henry returned her smile with a nod and moved toward the couch where he had lain his coat and scarf.

"I really am happy to help," he said, pushing his arms through the coat and reaching for his scarf, "I hope you'll be able to enjoy it for a while. I know I like a clean house."

Penny rolled her eyes and shook her head, then shrugged.

"It won't always be like this. At least that's what I tell myself."

She set the towel on the kitchen counter and moved across the floor to the front door. Henry approached and she put her hand on the knob.

"Thanks again for the tigerseye, too. It'll make for a really pretty necklace," she said, opening the door.

A gust of cold, fresh air rolled into the trailer. He smiled and ducked his head with a small grin.

"No problem."

He adjusted the scarf higher onto his neck and stepped toward the door before turning to look at her one more time. His heart thumped in his throat again as they made eye contact, and the urge to kiss her bubbled suddenly to the surface once more. The wind blew in and swirled the loose hairs around her face. She didn't smile, and neither did he.

"Well... goodnight, Penny."

She nodded and lightly chewed her lip, one hand still on the doorknob.

"Goodnight, Henry."

Henry turned and walked out of the trailer, and she shut the door gently behind him.

The wind had picked up while he was with her and the chill was fighting hard to cut through his coat and scarf, but he welcomed the cold air on his face; it helped to break the spell that intoxicated him in the trailer.

Did Penny have any idea how close she was to being kissed? And more than that, he thought to himself, is whether or not the question mattered since he couldn't bring himself to do it.

He quickened his pace as he approached the saloon, feeling anxious to get home. The line about the barns hadn't been a lie.

"Why didn't I kiss her?" he agonized internally, his footfalls echoing loudly as he crossed the town square. Didn't he want to? He thought now that she wanted him to, but there was still nothing definite about the evening's events.

He felt so confused. Those moments at the sink were incredibly charged - he felt like he was practically on fire. At the very least she must have heard the booming of his heart in his chest, but, she didn't make a move either. Perhaps he was making something out of nothing.

His legs had carried him past the bus stop now and he was starting to feel calm at last. He was slowly coming to the conclusion that he didn't have feelings for Penny after all; that he was just swept up in an exciting, new moment this evening. He allowed these thoughts to sit in his mind, tossing them, turning them over, weighing them.

And there it was. The fresh air and exercise succeeded in clearing his head; he was glad he didn't kiss her. He wasn't ready for whatever it would have meant, and without knowing what he wanted it wasn't worth risking the friendship and generating gossip.

The time was approaching 11 pm when he finally reached the barns. As he dragged the doors shut he began to ponder if there was someone in town that he _did_ have feelings for.

Turns out he was tired of being alone.


End file.
